


Merry Christmas Love, Sam

by Emblue_Sparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cabin in the woods but the good kind, Canon Era, Christmas Fluff, Destiel Fluff, Destiel T shirts, Hot Topical, Lovesick idjits get separated, M/M, Sammy is snarky and I will always love him, Shipper!Sam to the rescue, best intentions, just a note, short and sweet feel good christmas destiel feels, some day my prince will come, temporarily sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-23 11:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: Castiel and Dean wake up as Hot Topical Pop! figures in Bizarro World 2.0. To make matters worse, Sam is nowhere to be found. When planning their escape by night yields zilch, things happen that needed to happen ages ago. But when someone buys Dean, leaving Cas on the shelf, can they find each other again? Will they ever get back home?





	Merry Christmas Love, Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tfw_cas for being my beta and always giving such encouragement!

 

“Un-freakin’-believable!” Dean shouted, tossing his hands up in defeat, ”three days Cas. Three days in th-this-this bizarro world 2.0 and nobody can tell us how to get outta here!”

“Nobody can tell us anything Dean. They can't even figure out we're talking. I don't know what kind of universe this is, but how did we end up as these blockish versions of ourselves?”

Three days earlier they'd been in the library, warming up on a chilly December night by pounding piping hot coffee while researching for a case found by Sam. Next thing they knew, they'd found themselves on a Hot Topical shelf, individually packaged and squashed so perfectly between two form fitting plastic pieces they could barely breathe.

Sam was MIA, zero carbon copies of himself were on the shelf, like their own other Deans and Castiel's. Weird, none of them talked or even broke out of their boxes any chance they got.

“I got no clue man. Now the sales clerks just locked up, Harley Quinn’s probably gonna be comin’ over any minute now and I gotta be honest, she scares the crap outta me. Demons I get, people are just crazy.”

Cas was searching for new ideas on the escape front. However, Dean's loud yet understandable frustrations were hindering his train of thought. So he tried employing a very new founded method of distraction to see if it helped.

“I agree, there are some troubling aspects of her personality, but why did you become so perturbed when she expressed an interest in having a sandwich with us?”

Dean facepalmed, even though his tiny hands could barely reach his forehead.

“That's not what she meant.”

He watched Cas tilt his disproportionate head and his wide, black eyes which should’ve been blue, squinted at him in that special way which always made his heart rev to high RPMs like a muscle car at the starting line.

“Sorry,” Dean calmed to a soft whisper, recognizing his grumbles were counterproductive.

He walked over to Cas with a clunky gait, thanks to whomever included his bow legs in the Pop! figure design.

_Fuck you very much, you dickbag concept fabricators._

He took Cas's hand in his own and carefully placed his other arm around his neck. Pulling him in and touching their foreheads together, Dean sighed.

“Whose bright idea was it to permanently glue the damn bowie knife in my hand, huh? How the hell am I supposed to hug you and not slice plastic feathers off of your back every time I wanna cuddle?”

Cas gazed back at him without any answers, but enough love and support to last a lifetime.

“And how on earth do you suddenly have your wings back? This whole multiverse thing is so confusing!”

His angel shoved him over the shelf's edge with a grin, then magically caught him on one of the shelves below, bestowing a kiss on his cheek. Then smoothly hopped down each of the offset shelves with him still in his arms, to the one holding several stacks of Destiel T shirts.

Dean's insides were complete goo, and all troubling thoughts temporarily dissipated. Discovering new sides to Cas, like this tenderhearted mischievousness, had him on a constant high whenever he wasn't planning their jail break.

He watched Cas grab a few, balling them up in a circle for privacy around the remaining folded shirts. Natural zens known as serotonin and contentedness washed over Dean, as he saw his angel lay on the soft cotton which held their likeness. He felt a tad bashful when Cas regarded him expectantly from the pile of shirts which were memory foam mattresses against their hard plastic bodies. And yet, the idea of a cuddle fest with him was too good to pass up

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he said with glee while jumping in and snuggling up against his boyfriend, bowie knife in hand, crossing over his chest in protection. Not that the angel needed sleep, and in this world neither did Dean.

The first night, Dean had been so upset to learn the Sammy's were almost always sold out, so there'd be little to no chance of finding his Pop!, and the odds of finding one alive like he and Cas were even less.

Dean had plopped on his butt in despair at the end of their shelf, letting his legs dangle over the edge, and vented.

“I am very, _v_ _ery_ tired. We've spent years jumping from the pot into the frying pan and I'm just _done_ with supernatural bullshit. Never gonna have all the way normal, but dammit Cas, I-I’ve wished for just a shred of it..with you.”

When Cas sat down beside him in the very same fashion, Dean’s nerves were a ball of acid and dynamite. But if he was being honest with himself, there was no time like the present to spill the beans which had been simmering nonstop for ten years.

Cas had cut him off right at the “I love you,” and returned fire with “you had me at first stab,” then laid one on the hunter.

Well, where his lips would've been anyhow. Dean knew Cas had tried to kiss him and it'd sent him over the moon just the same as if it had been real. Although, part of him couldn't help missing the sensation of warm, pliable human lips. When his mind had immediately imagined what that would feel like, heat spread across his face, and he'd hoped the plastic wasn't burning red like his cheeks normally would have been.

They’d spent each day jumping in their boxes, scooting them this way and that until they fell over onto the floor. When someone, a clerk or a customer, reached down to pick them up, they'd shout and holler like crazy. Cas even tried ‘flaming on’ as Dean called it, to no avail.

Harsh reality soon sunk in. To human onlookers, they were plastic and lifeless, empty versions of the real Dean and Cas. So they committed themselves to determinedly strategizing escape during the day, and cuddling away the disappointment at night.

“It’s unfortunate the nights leave us no way of learning how to get back home. I'm sorry,” Cas mentioned.

“I am. And I'm not. I wanna get out of here, but if we gotta sit the bench at night, then doin’ this with you, well it beats all else.”

Cas's plastic wing tips rippled against the t-shirts underneath them rather than fluttered, in response to Dean's confession.

Dean buried his smile and rising facial warmth in his angel’s chest, surmising that had been the plastic Cas version of blushing or his heart skipping a beat, and it was just too Goddammned cute. So they snuggled close and talked through the wee hours until the store clerks came in and tidied the shelves, chuckling that the spirit of Destiel was strong with these two.

One morning, the store opened as usual with customers pouring in, enjoying all the extra Nightmare Before Christmas decor, and anxiously making their holiday purchases. Dean and Cas had been residing on the highest shelf since day one, so they'd never paid much attention to how many of their Pop! figure clones were being sold each day.

When a long pair of green and blue grippers unexpectedly grabbed Dean off the shelf, he began furiously yelling and trying to move around.

“No! Leave me here, dammit! What are you doing?! Put me back! Cas! Oh my God! No no Caaas!!”

If they got separated in this world, Dean had no idea if they'd ever find each other again or even get back home. His last view of anything other than the inside of a brown bag would be of Cas pounding on his own box and yelling at him in a blind panic.

All Dean could do was lay in his box, helpless, as he bumped around in his bag against other bags and boxes in a trunk. Someone took the boxes and bags out, carried him inside a house, and placed him in what he presumed was the top shelf of a coat closet.

He heard a man's voice on the phone, “Been home all day.”

_You lying sonuvabitch!_

“How's work? Want me to get dinner started? M'kay. Drive safe, love you.”

_This is just fucking great. Who the hell bought me? Mr. Rogers? Am I a gift?!_

He sat in his box day after day, listening to the goings on of the couple who lived there. One of them was named Clark, the other was Bruce, and if the situation weren’t so completely fucked up, he might even go so far as to say they were pretty cool couple.

But it really was so unbelievably fucked up. And he missed Cas. In fact, he was going out of his mind with worry. They'd finally confessed their undying love for each other, and this is how it was gonna end? Dean sighed as a single tear escaped down his plastic cheek, as he miserably contemplated his unhappily ever after on a lonely shelf, within the confines of a box and a brown paper wall.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Cas had been sick for days after losing Dean. The chances of ever finding him again were slim to none. At first he'd combed the store at night asking any other live Funko's if they knew a way out, or had seen who'd purchased Dean.

When Cas made it clear to Miss Harley Quinn he wasn't interested in making her a sandwich, she became a little desperate.

“Have you seen my Puddin’? Can you bring him back?” she sniffled, holding her bat's grip close to her heart.

“N-no. I'm sorry. What does he look like?” he asked the pitiful girl whose painted face was running like water colors.

He figured since he was in the same boat looking for Dean, he could at least listen to her description and keep an eye out. Without a clue on how to console such a hot mess, he apologetically left her in tears and resumed his search.

Cas strolled past a dark haired guy in a leather jacket and a barbed wire wrapped baseball bat over his shoulder standing next to his box. Harley had one as well, minus the wire, but he thought he'd inquire anyways.

“The box says you're Negan..but you wouldn't happen to go by the nickname of ‘Puddin’?”

The guy snarled and smacked the lower half of the bat in his hand, then aggressively pointed it at him, “Do I look like some fairy to you?”

“No. O-okay, sorry.” Cas shook his head and moved on.

Well he'd at least mention this guy to Miss Harley Quinn. They seemed to have the same taste in ball sports, and from what she'd described, Cas thought this 'Puddin’ character sounded like a real joker.

He kept on walking but sadly, found nobody who could be of help. The next day he was so sad, he didn't even try to escape. Resignation and slumber had almost taken him when he felt his box jostling.

_What's happening! No! Even if I can't find Dean maybe he can find his way back to me here! I can't leave! Put me back!_

Cas was helpless to stop this as Dean had been. When they'd put him in the brown paper sack and the customer walked out of the store, he didn't even know which direction they'd gone. Cas was so upset he'd even prayed to anyone in Heaven who might lower themselves enough to help.

He was shoved in a trunk and brought inside a house along with other parcels, then tucked away in a nightstand. Night after night he could hear people talking kindly to one another about this and that. At least these humans sounded nice. Cas wondered if the person who'd bought Dean was a good soul. The thought of his beloved human purchased for a screaming tween or even worse, a doggie chew toy, made him feel tremendously sad.

One night, he thought a man had mentioned Thursday, and a favorite TV show was switched on. Cas heard familiar voices! It was Dean! And Sam! They were in Baby, talking about...Halloween costumes? Dean wanted to dress up as Bert and Ernie? With Sam?

_But I thought Dean said they were gay? Why would he want to dress up that way with with Sa- oh..nevermind. Sounds like they both think that's weird._

But what was happening here? Perhaps Sam and Dean would hear him if he tried calling out? Stranger things had happened, last year he'd gotten sucked _INTO the TV_ with them. So it wasn't that crazy of an idea.

_Hey! Sam! Dean!!! Help! I'm stuck in a box and can't get out!! Dean, I'm in here through the TV!!!_

He yelled and got nowhere, save losing his voice for his efforts. Cas had loved Dean for ten years, the best years of his long life. His hunter had only just gotten the courage to tell him how he felt. So he couldn't give up now, he just couldn't!

He redoubled his efforts and began screaming at the top of his lungs, knocking his box all around the inside of the nightstand cupboard until finally the door opened and his box silently tumbled out onto the carpet. It was very early in the morning, the sun was only just beginning to rise.

Cas started roaming through the house, looking for any sign of where he was or for anything he could use to help find Dean. He rounded a corner on to a beautiful hardwood family room floor; in the corner stood a lovely bedecked tree, with presents underneath.

On the wall was a pleasant wedding photo of two men, with the date September 18, 2008. Cas wanted to cry, that was the night they'd met and Dean had touched his heart, hadn't mattered to him it'd literally been with a blade.

“Cas! Holy shit! Are you really here? Thank GAWD!” Dean ran over to him, dragging the vacu-formed, plastic backing off of himself by his foot, which a sales clerk had wrapped around so he'd stay in his damn box.

“Dean? What?” Cas ran to Dean and their bulbous noggins crashed so hard it knocked them both backwards onto the hardwood floor. Thankfully it hadn't hurt. They pushed themselves back up and kissed as best they could, making tiny, plastic scratching sounds with their faces moving against each other.

“Dean, I don't understand. The odds of us finding each other in this already impossible situation is statistically-”

“Cas, I was so scared. Thought I'd be left in a box forever. What day is it?”

“December 25th, 2018.”

“Are we presents? These guys are decent and all but I can't stay here, we've gotta find Sammy.”

Cas didn't have the answers but felt bad for Dean, he was really missing Sam too, and understood.

“I heard him on the TV. An episode of Supernatural was on. He couldn't hear me no matter how hard I yelled.”

“I heard you. Before though, I dunno, tried to get out and planned to somehow get back to the store. I just couldn't break through, but when I heard you calling out from somewhere in the house...just went nuts.”

“I see that,” Cas smiled, looking at the plastic taped around his foot. “Merry Christmas Dean, such that it is.”

Dean looked like he was about to return the holiday greeting with a hug, but “Canon of the Bells” by the Trans Siberian Orchestra started playing really loudly from somewhere inside the house.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Dean's eyes fluttered open. The room he awakened in smelled too much like the chemical essence of pine tree and some other sugar plum type of shit. He felt sofa cushions underneath him and saw his phone buzzing on a coffee table nearby playing the same music from Bizarro World 2.0.

_Hey! I'm not plastic anymore!_

Sitting up, he groaned a little, how long had he been asleep? Where was this place?

He shut off his phone alarm and took in his surroundings. It was a small, but delightful cabin. The fire was roaring and through the double paned windows snow was falling all over the pines and hills surrounding them. The coat rack by the door held one of his coats and Cas's trench.

_Cas is here too?!_

He whirled around to find his angel out cold on a gorgeous four poster king sized bed, with layers and layers of cozy crazy quilts beneath him.

_Oh, thank God that Pop bullshit was all just a dream! Or was this the dream? Oh no..._

Dean was beginning to wonder what kind of Inception style crap was going on when he saw an envelope addressed to him and Cas on the round, wooden kitchen table. He sat down and took a minute to read it, wearing an expression of fury, then awe, and finally warm gratitude.

When finished, Dean walked back over to the bed where his beloved angel slept, with the intention of pulling a mind blowing Prince Charming on him. He smirked and began to undress with happiness and love in his heart for both this sleeping beauty and his awesome, pain in the ass of a brother. This wasn't the weirdest Christmas, not by a long shot. But it damn sure was the best.

 

_To whomever opens this first-_

  _So sorry guys, just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to end this once and for all because if not, nothing would ever change. The longing stares, the eye fucking, both of you drama queens pining when the other is away. Hell, you guys don't even hug anymore you're so gone for each other. And scared._

_So I've taken the liberty of putting you both under the spell of Shared Dreams. You'll be on your own, needing to break down some barriers, walls, or whatever to get together, get out, and Donna's cabin is for you to get some afterwards. Don't worry I sterilized it! The pine tree and sugar plum fairy scented oils are to cover up the overpowering Vanilla Fields perfume from Mom and Ben Gay ointment smell from Bobby. Actually, I'm not sure what's worse but it's the thought that counts, so jerkwads-shut the fuck up and enjoy this._

_There's everything you guys like in the fridge, and everything you'll love in the nightstand...which neither of you will EVER develop a sudden urge to over share with me about. Are we clear? Good. In case this totally backfired, I've got a head start so don't even bother trying to find me. Hope you guys have a cozy holiday._

_Merry Christmas_

_Love,_

_Sam_

  
  
  



End file.
